Amacidian versus Arafellian Round 2

Krath Theron, Written by Dorian
Posted on Thu, Jul 1, 2010 13:24 pm

Beads of sweat dripped down Krath’s brow, the suns light beat down on the two as they faced off. Krath was doing well, granted he felt awful. He hadn’t got much sleep and had no ability to achieve any sense of the oneness. This being said, he was doing well. Even though they weren’t going full combat speed, they were moving pretty quickly, and Krath was keeping Marteol off balance. A pang of anticipation crossed Krath’s mind as Marteol struck first with Unfolded the Fan, Marteol elegantly lunged forward, braided hair swinging forth as his blade swung at Krath’s midsection, however Krath blocked the swing by moving blade forward from his guard, connecting with the Marteol’s lathe. Thwack. Krath kept that forward momentum going into The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, swinging his blade down quickly, but Marteol blocked it by stepping back, knocking his blade off course with a simple parry. They were supposed to stick to the forms they had learnt in this training class, but it seemed rather silly, as both him and Marteol knew better.

As Marteol got back into range, however, Krath moved into his new stance, The Ox Lowers His Horns, slipping into a middle guard, lowering stance by outstretching his forward foot, grinding deep into the sand. Krath lowered the body on his back foot; Krath held his hilt is held close to his face looking at Marteol from just over the hilt. Krath swiftly extended his arms forward and down in a chest thrust, he had once been told what it was supposed to be called, but right now it really didn’t matter, as the tip of his lathe skated across Marteol’s chest, grazing his training jerkin. Marteol used Black Pebbles on Snow to deflect the his blade with a parry, then Marteol down-cut toward the his ribs with sudden force, however with swift side stepping Krath was able to make a quick parry, and move him into a defensive position as Marteol made his final strike. Being mid body, Marteol made a wide swing, arcing his lathe at Krath’s neck level. Krath spotted the beginning stance of Arc of the Moon, and figured a unique counter.

Against reason Krath sped forward into the path of the blade, but with the correct timing, just as Marteol’s training lathe would start to pass Krath’s shoulder, he dropped into a spin with that forward momentum, and spun his own blade into a much lower arc, but with a body spin on his knee. Krath could hear Marteol’s blade sail over head, as he swung his own attack. Krath knew this would a dangerous move in a fight; He was now on his knee and would be far too easy to knock over with the simplest of kicks, he also would not be able to mount any sort of effect counter attack if this attack had failed. It hadn’t. Krath could feel the vibrations of his lathe making connection to Marteol’s side, just below his ribs. Its sound was sweet a –thwack- that rang in Krath’s ears. Krath could hear gasps from some of the other trainees, surely just as shocked that Krath’s attack worked. The thwack shouldn’t have hurt to greatly, more have smarted, as they were training blades, and neither men (at least in Krath’s mind) were trying to hurt each other. Standing, he bowed to Marteol trying to show deference to his worthy opponent, but Krath did turn to see just who was all watching their battle. Krath was sure they would get into some trouble. Initially they had been going slowly, (a simple training speed) but they had swiftly moved into a near combatant speed.

Marteol sagged visibly after his ‘defeat’. His lathe pointed down on the ground, allowing him lean on the cross guard. Krath turned to see him, as the weapon creaked, and the lathes bent alarmingly, but thankfully they did not break. Both men were breathing fairly heavily; they had begun to move fairly quickly, though they both had been fighting outside of their comfort zone. Krath smiled at Marteol, whose eyes looked at him as if considering what he had done wrong in the fight, perhaps? Suddenly Marteol said, with extremely casualness, “So you’re the former White cloak right?” . Krath could feel his blood boil, as he was getting irked. HE hated when people said White Cloak. Unsure if this was bad sportsmanship or just a simple question, however, Krath tried to compose himself. Grinding his teeth and glaring at the man, would serve no purpose then to make himself seem the villain. Marteol pushed himself erect he held the sword in front of him, loose in his hand and point still toward the dirt. “Burn out any innocent farmers lately?” He needled the other man teasingly, however something deep inside Krath snapped.

Krath could see himself leaping at Marteol, as if outside of his own body, watching it swinging Krath’s blade down forcefully, as if trying to cleaving the Arefellian in twine. He screamed at himself to stop, but nothing came out. His blood was boiling, and his body was moving on its own, Krath could clearly see the rage that cross his face. Marteol’s face looked shocked, as if he was unaware that his comment would have this reaction. Dodged backwards frantically trying to block and dodge Krath’s assault, his blade swinging madly at Marteol. Shouts came from across the yard, as they left the training area, swinging at each other as if their practice lathes were far more dangerous in this swashbuckling action. This pace had proved too much however, and Marteol whilst stepped back, leaving him off balance shortly, but Krath took his chance and kicked Marteol in the stomach. The blow solidly connected, knocking Marteol back, onto his back which he turned into an agile roll. Krath could see Marteol breathing heavily, as he rolled to his feet from the kick, a look of anger and pain crossed his face. As Marteol stood, as if by the one power itself, another training lathe appeared in his hand. Krath was fine with that, as it had appeared they had backed into another set of trainee’s training equipment. Hooking his foot under a large training shield, still smaller then his own shield, Krath kicked it up. Catching the padded edges of the training shield, Krath slipped it on his left arm, and took his stance. He was sure both could hear their instructors screaming for them to stop, however, it looked like training was really just beginning.

OOC: There is no reason to be alarmed. Philip and I have this all planned out. There is no puppet stringing… its all cool. Besides the homicidal intent.

In reply to Amadacian vs Arafellian Round 1[show]/[hide]

Another day, another part of the Sword Lesson. It had been nearly two weeks already and if Marteol were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd be glad to see the other side of this class. He knew practically all of the things Elaryl had been teaching, despite the differences in his methodology, and quite honestly, he was bored. Two swords would never be one no matter how much he may have made them move like it. And the Arafellian did not think he'd ever again get used to the feel of both hands on the same hilt. But he had to learn. If this was the price that the Tower would exact from him for it's gift, then he would pay. All of this he thought as he was dressing his hair after his morning wash (in very cool water). Though he always wore his hair and beard braided in public, at night he unbound both. His hair when not braided was long, nearly to his shoulder blades and the color of mown straw ready for the harvest, although much softer. His beard hung to the top of his stomach and was courser. Several of the trainees had laughed at seeing him each morning, combing his hair our after washing it, then carefully ordering it, braiding it, and tipping each braid with its appropriate bell. But this was his meditation time, and since learning of the Void, he had been using it to practice. One of the trainees who shared his barrack, an Andoran with a reputation as a bully if a lazy one, had been heard to remark on Marteols effeminacy. The Arafellian had taken great pleasure in pounding the fools head into the dirt during a grappling lesson. No one had commented since. His bangs he braided into two thin braids which he then tucked back over his ears and tied off behind his head a single bell between them. The rest of his hair he gathered into two handfuls and then worked into separate braids going down his back, each with their own bell. His beard had two forked braids, after a Kandori fashion, and the remainder hung between those in three smaller braids. Each had a bell. In total eight braids and eight bells. It was a lot of effort, but he had always considered it worthwhile. Even here where it more often than not meant he was sweating before anyone else. He arrived to the yard on time, maybe a bit early, but unlike many of his classmates, Elaryl's lateness did not bother him. She was after all herself a trainee, not a Gaidar, so she doubtlessly had other responsibilities and he simply assumed that it was one of these which had her delayed. As he waited, he closed his eyes and practiced the Flame and the Void. It was becoming easier he noted, and he could fairly reliably call it up if he were meditating, or even doing quiet, repetitive tasks, like bathing, dressing his hair and any number of similar tasks. As soon as someone spoke to him however, it still shattered like a fallen mirror leaving him with a slight headache. He wasn't sure if that was what was supposed to happen, but he hadn't bothered to ask. Once Elaryl did appear, he was among the first to retrieve a lathe, as well as being one of those who had been practicing, and as such he did not miss a step of her initial drills. He had a much more difficult time with the forms themselves. No matter how much had been practicing lately, the single lathe in his hands still felt uncomfortable, unnatural. He felt naked with only one blade, whats worse he felt incompetent. It was an unfamiliar sensation. He had been one of if not the best swordsman in the Shol Arbela guard, and he had accounted himself well against other swordsmen from the army. He was quite accomplished in his own style. Outside of it he was, adequate at best, hopeless at worst. With a single blade he was marginal. But it was what he had to do. He struggled to replicate Elaryl's movements, though all the forms were familiar. The simplest was of course Unfolding the Fan. But Elaryl performed it unusually, drawing her single blade from her hip. Marteol was used to drawing two swords off his back, so for him the form was different. It was like that for all of them. Just enough similarity to highlight the glaring differences, and the difficulty Marteol was having in their execution. Even after several walk throughs and drills, it would be obvious to anyone that the Arefllian was struggling. When Elaryl announced the spar, Marteol felt he was the only one not excited by the announcement, but when the big shaven former Child came to him and requested that they partner, he did not say no. Krath Theron had actually been his first pick for partner, judging by their listed experiences during introductions they were about equal in skill, and both were fighting outside their styles. That being the case, Marteol felt his best chances for a fair match as it were, lay with the Amadacian. As the pair squared up on each other, Marteol looked the other man over. They were near in size, and if they were as near in experience as she seemed to remember them being, this would be an interesting fight. That the man carried a shield around like a safety blanket spoke to the Arefellian. He knew then that he wasn't the only one missing the familiar comforts of a long held style. He had tucked the lathe into the waistband of his trousers at his back when the two had squared up, and to start the fight, he Unfolded the Fan, in a fashion after which he was somewhat comfortable. Krath was in The Lion on the Hill, and after blocking Marteols first strike he attacked. The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain. Marteol stepped back and swatted at the other man's lathe with his own, parrying awkwardly. The mans next for Marteol did not recognize, so he did his best to avoid it, yet the tip of the lathe still clipped his clothing. TOO CLOSE! His mind screamed, adrenaline coursing into his body as the Fight or Flight reflex kicked in. Off balance from the form he did not recognize, the Arafellian swung an awkward Black Pebbles on Snow, and followed it with Arc of the Moon. It was clear to him even at this early stage that Krath would best him with a single blade. But that did not mean that he meant to go down easily. He fought on, giving his best, knowing that even if he 'lost' the duel, such as it was, both he and Krath would be improved by the experience.

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Replies to Amacidian versus Arafellian Round 2

  • Amadacian vs Arafellian: Final Combat — Marteol Anduan, Wed, Jul 7, 2010 21:22 pm